The Lioness who Rides Astride
by LaurelynFaye
Summary: Tywin Lannister's "reward" for the sack of King's Landing is two-fold, his daughter as Queen, and his son dismissed from the kingsguard and returned to him as heir, on one condition. He must marry North. The Wardens of the West, forever bound to the Honorable North. She is the Kingslayer's Spawn, a lioness with the Iron spine of the North. A war will rage, and she will fight.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer; None of it's mine, never has been never will be, otherwise the Red Wedding would have _never_ happened. Never.

AN:/ This is a just an AU that sort of popped into my head. Jaime Lannister isn't an honorable man, or even a good one, but he seems like a good friend, and a good brother, and like, if he was allowed, he would be a loving father. What if Robert had done the sensible thing and dismissed the Kingslayer from his kingsguard? (Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen are still Cersei and Jamie's children, he just isn't around as often). What if? Jaime would have been heir to Casterly Rock, he would have had to have children, but Robert couldn't let the Lannisters be bound to just any family. No, that wouldn't do at all.

So this first part is in tiny little vignettes, to set the scene. Chronological order.

Tywin Lannister's "reward" for the sack of King's Landing is two fold and simultaneously infuriates and placates Ned. Robert takes Cersei Lannister to wife and Queen, and removes Jaime Lannister from the Kingsguard at Tywin's request, so that he can return to his position as Heir of Casterly Rock, and the Wardenship of the West, on the condition that he weds Laraya Umber, the daughter of one of Ned's most loyal bannermen, Lord Umber, of Last Hearth, whom Robert had come to know during the rebellion. It was Robert's hope that the line of Lann the trickster would be mitigated by that of the shackle breakers. The Wicked Wardens of the West, forever bound to the Honorable North. Ned had pulled Laraya aside himself, she, his sister's oldest friend, was owed that much, and when she agreed to it for peace, he himself granted her a number of lands for dowry, to pass to any daughter's she might have. Sometimes he wondered if he had done the right thing, asking her to go south, to the man who had ordered the rape and murder of an innocent woman and her children all because of who her husband and their father was.

White wings, white words. Laraya Lannister, formerly of House Umber, has borne and birthed Jaime Lannister, Heir to Casterly Rock and the Wardenship of the West, a daughter, named Cerenna Lyanna Lannister, with Lannister Golden hair, and slate Gray Eyes of the Umber line. She was healthy, and named not two weeks past, for her father's beloved cousin, and her mother's late best friend. Might all her years be Summer and her heart never know Winter's Touch. Hear her Roar.

Black Wings, Black Words. Layara Lannister, formerly of House Umber, for whom his daughter Arya is named, has died, in childbirth. Twin boys. An heir and a Spare, as far as any could tell, they were identical. Her bones, at her request, are being sent back to Last Hearth. The boys names are Kevan, and Tyjon. They are Lannister of coloring. The girl is 9 years of age, 2 years younger than Robb. Winter is Coming.

Ned was once more in the Godswood, sitting before the godstree, when Catelyn approached him. She settled to the ground in front of him, reluctant to speak. He had been so burdened since Jon Arryn's death, and with Robert and his court coming, she had no wish to give him anymore news that would weigh further on his mind. And Layara Umber's fate had weighed heavily on Ned's mind for years. She had married the Kingslayer at his request, and he considered her death at least partially on his shoulders. Any talk of her would surely laden him further. Still.

"There was a raven from Casterly Rock" she paused before continuing "Jaime Lannister and his daughter will be travelling to Winterfell, with the rest of the Royal Court. The Girl wants to meet her mother's family."

Ned closed his eyes and sighed gently, heaving himself to his feet before offering her a hand up. "Well, my lady, it seems as though we have much to prepare for. Winter is coming." He said with a grim smile, and walked sword on hip, arm in arm with her, from the godswood. _

Jaime Lannister has been called many things throughout his lifetime, among them Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, Son, Brother, Heir, and once, long ago, husband. His favorite of his titles is Father. He is not a good man, nor an honorable one, but he likes to believe that he is, at least, a passable father, and he does loves his children. So is it any wonder that when his daughter comes to him, the very image of his mother, with the exception of her eyes, and pleads to go to Winterfell, with the royal court, in the hopes of meeting her mother's family, he says yes.

His darling daughter, who is by turns fierce as a lioness, with the iron spine of the North, and gentle as his mother, is at first vulnerable to the cruelties of the southron ladies around her, who are so, so very different from her. They are delicate creatures, more than able to sew and weave and dance, and well versed in the courtesies of court life. His girl is as vivid as the sunset sea, as strong, and as dangerous as the North her mother is from. Cleverer than all of those around her, and uncompromising. She learns from her Mother what it is to be of the North, of the cold and the Snow and of the old Gods. What strength there is in the Umber Giant is hers, and she rides as the highborn girls of the North do, astride. His Uncle Kevan teaches her to shoot a bow at eight, and he, himself teaches her to wield, and throw, a dagger at nine, when he finds her crying in the godswood at the Rock, after her mother dies.

It is not until she is 13 that he realizes that the girls of the Westerlands mock her, calling her the Feral Lion Cub, and other cruel monikers in abundance. It is his brother that teaches her how to respond to them with wit and venom. But It is his sister that turns his baby girl into a Lioness of the Rock.

He has often been at court, and it is only after he realizes that his children suffer for it that he brings them with him. He expects Cersei to hate his children, as she hated their mother. But Cersei sees their mother in Cerenna, and him in his sons, and that is enough to make her love them, and if it is not as much as she loves their children, well, he cannot fault her for that. Especially not when she takes Cerenna under her wing, and hones her intelligence to a razor sharp weapon, teaching her the ins and outs of court, especially not when she gives his little lioness claws.

Perhaps the most surprising is his father, who Cerenna adores, even from a babe. She will sit in his office for hours on end as he talks to his various stewards, and informers, and writes his correspondence. She is 15 before he realizes that she has not been idle in his father's office, when Lord Varys inclines his head to her and asks how her little birdies are, and she laughs. His father has not been idle either. He may favor Cerenna over his other grandchildren for her remarkable resemblance to his beloved wife, but that favor does not exempt her from his use of her, just as he uses all of his family.

Cerenna too has many names, the Lioness who rides Astride, The Heart of the West, the Golden Spyder, The Lady of Casterly Rock, The Old Lion's Weakness, The Golden Girl, The Kingslayer's Spawn, but Jaime knows that her favorite is his nickname for her, Cenna. So he sends one raven to Winterfell and one to last Hearth, and he and Cerenna join the court on the King's Road.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not mine Never Was.

AN:/ Okay this is sooner than I would typically update, but I spent most of my pre-cal class today writing it so… Also Cersei might seem slightly OOC, but she's a narcissist, she views Jaime children as an extension of him, and Jaime as an extension of herself so, they are to a certain extent an extension of her, in similar way that her children are extensions of herself. Also this becomes slightly more like the show, and we get our first interaction with Cerenna. A word to the wise, the first few chapters will be mostly focused on Cerenna, as the impact she, and her brothers have will be utterly massive over the course of the war, and I want to get her at least as fleshed out as the rest of the Lannisters. At the point where they leave Winterfell things will begin to focus a tad more on what's going on with everybody else, but this is the last one that will be entirely focused on her.

Catelyn Stark expected many things of Tywin Lannister's infamous granddaughter, rumors of whom had reached even this far north, through merchants, and roaming crows, and the smallfolk. She expected her to be as proud as her Aunt, the Golden Queen, whose legendary arrogance is said to grow by the year, as her beauty fades. She expected the infamous Lannister disregard for anything not of the West. She expects, at the very least, a proper Southron lady. To say that her expectations are _not _met would be a gross understatement.

After the King and his retinue have been greeted the Lannisters, resplendent in gold and red follow, and beside the Kingslayer rides his daughter. Cerenna Lannister is undoubtedly a beauty, but it is subsumed by, well...her. She rides her horse as a man does, in a dress hemmed short enough to display the riding pants and boots she wears, with the hilts of what appear to be _daggers_ sticking out. There is a quiver and bow slung over her saddle horn, both inlaid with gold. Instead of the condescendingly demure smile worn by Her Grace, the girl displays a fierce grin, more a baring of teeth than a smile, under sharply observant grey eyes, crowned by a braided coronet of gold. It is the eyes that fluster Cat.

Catelyn knew of course that the girl had inherited the Umber eyes from her mother. She had not expected her to have the GreatJon's soul stare. Men in the North whispered among themselves that with a single gaze the Lord of Last Hearth could tell a man's deepest secrets, and it appeared as though the trait had passed to his granddaughter.

After their brief introduction Catelyn's attention is drawn back to hosting her rather … maintenance intensive guests, but occasionally she will glimpse the girl out of the corner of her eye and wonder at how differently this mix of the North and South turned out from her own dear children.

When Tyrion surfaces for the feast he loiters outside for a time, and speaks to Ned Stark's bastard. But as all good things must, his reprieve soon ends, in the form of his oldest niece. She exits the rowdy hall, tugging her golden shawl, surely a gift from his sister, closer, and upon spotting him, makes her way in his direction, an uncomfortable expression upon her face.

She settles in beside him on the low stone wall with a wan smile. "Uncle"

Oh dear. She wanted to **talk**. Any serious talk with his niece would need to occur when he was not sober. He loved his niece, but thanks to his father, his sister, and her Northern blood, she could take herself entirely too seriously. When his only response is to hum Cenna lets the silence stretch for 10, then 20 marks, before she sighs quietly.

He closes his eyes, and tilts his head back. She is very good. "So tell me, Niece, what do you think of the land of your mother?" he asks, japing. He expects her to respond immediately, and sarcastically, as she typically would. When she doesn't he is startled, even more so when he turns, only to find her pretty grey eyes glistening with unshed tears. Where Jaime would panic and offer her jewels, and books, and weapons, where Cersei would pull her to her chest, muttering soothing nothings, and reminding her that lions don't cry, where his father would place a steady hand on her shoulder and wait for her to compose herself, Tyrion simply sits and waits. Finally she speaks.

"It shouldn't be possible, Uncle Tyrion!" She rages, voice quavering, "To feel as though you are home, truly home, home in a place you've never even been and … and _still_ feel like no one understands you. Like no one wants you." she breaks off with a hiccup, finally giving way to tears.

Oh. It was so easy to forget how young Cerenna was, and how isolated she'd been. Isolated by her family, by the actions of her father, and the orders of her grandfather during the sack, isolated by her mother's northern blood. Isolated by her own nature, which rebelled against the confines of expectations of women in the south. She had not faltered, not in the intrigues and challenges of court, or in the viper's den that was the West, not since the moment Cersei had taught her to stand strong. Because she had not wavered, even in the face of the most daunting challenges, it was easy to dismiss how damaging it must have been for her. How it must have torn her to shreds to sit in her solar at Casterly Rock, or in the Maidenvault at the Red Keep, and listen to lady after lady mock her subtly, claiming that she could not dance or sew or make polite conversation as well as they could because of her Northern blood. That that was what made her different.

"Oh, my Golden Girl" he murmured, reaching out to draw her to him as best he could, motioning to a Lannister soldier that passed by, whose eyes widened as he fairly sprinted for the hall. He would tell Jaime, who would come, hopefully bringing Cersei as well.

It was no wonder his niece nearly thought the sun rose and set on his sister. She was her only protection among the ladies of the court, and the only woman in her life that encouraged her to be the lioness she wished to be. Cersei had never had that opportunity, under their Aunt Genna's hand for most of her life, who had never allowed Cersei to truly become a lioness of the Rock. It had been among the most amusing moments of Tyrion's life when Aunt Genna, who was fussing over how unladylike Cerenna was, had been evicted from the Red Keep by the Kingsguard on Cersei's orders.

Now, however Cerenna would certainly need his sister, as her last hope of being accepted was destroyed by the disdain in Lady Stark's eyes, echoed in her elder daughter's moue of distaste, and their efforts to keep the youngest girl from her. In the judgment of yet another southron lady and her daughters' septa, where a sept should never have even have been built, his niece's shield had finally cracked. It risked sending her spiraling into another cycle of her moods, where she was despondent and dangerously frenetic by turns, when she had been rid of them for nearly a year now. Gods only knew how long this one might last.

Her face had been pressed to his shoulder, silent tears slipping down and soaking the cloth for only a few minutes when Cersei and Jaime came racing from a side door close to them, nearly stumbling they moved so quickly.

When they reached them Cersei pushed him aside, taking Cerenna into her arms, pressing her to her chest, just as he knew she would. What he had not expected was that Cersei would know what troubled their niece, which she evidently did, given the fact that she cursed the Starks and the North, and anyone who wasn't a Lannister.

"You're a Lioness, my sweet girl, and even the direwolf fears the pride" she murmurs, rocking her back and forth, as Jaime kneels behind her and strokes her hair. They promise that they can leave soon, and she doesn't ever need to see the North again, that they'll make it all better, a million promises, promises she knows they can't keep, but that sooth her anyway. Soon she has stopped crying, and Cersei takes her to the room she and Myrcella are sharing, still whispering little nothings to her.

After they have gone Jaime and Tyrion sit in silence for a time, their concern palpable in the air between them. They each wait for the other to speak first, and in the end, as always it is Jaime who breaks the quiet.

"I don't know that I will ever understand her" he sighs, shaking his head, "she's so strong, so often, and so clever, but then, she's so weak sometimes, and the Maesters say that her moods won't ever go away. I don't know what to do."

Tyrion considers his elder brother for a moment and merely shakes his head before turning away, heading for his rooms leaving his brother to contemplate his daughter.

Tyrion, for all he loves them, has no illusions about his family, not as so many of their lesser cousins and bannermen do. Cersei could be as cruel as fire, burning and ravaging all in her path, and she cared little for those not Lannister in name or blood, and even less for him. Jaime, for all his brother loved him, was callous to any he did not care for, and reckless on the best of days. If it had naught to do with their little family he was blind to it. He would be a terrible Lord of the Rock and Warden of the West, as he cared for little outside Cersei, Tyrion himself, his children, nieces and nephews, and cousins. The rest of the world could rot for all his brother cared. His father loved his children and grandchildren and family, but loved his legacy more, and would not hesitate to sacrifice them all for it. Joffrey was half-mad, and cruel with it, tormenting any in his power, including his siblings, and once, a pregnant cat. And Cerenna? Dear Cerenna was as clever as he, as ruthless as his father, absolutely convinced she knew best of them all, with an absolute surety that must have come from her mother, but Cerenna's most dangerous flaw was that she was afraid of people leaving her, as her mother had, so she clung tightly to anyone she considered hers, and she would go to almost any lengths to protect them.

Make no mistake though, his family had good in them. Cersei's redeeming quality was her love for her family, which bordered on an absolute devotion. Jaime was charming and generous. Tywin may have been willing to sacrifice his family's happiness for his legacy, but would have brought Westeros itself down around those who would harm them. Cerenna was quick to love; she considered many people to be hers and cared for all of them fiercely. The true issue lay in that those flaws and traits combined made for a volatile house, playing a dangerous game. The Game of Thrones.


End file.
